If You Can’t Beat ‘em, Join ‘em!
I had my first major surgery at the age of eleven. The purpose of the surgery was to correct the malalignment of the bones in both of my feet and ankles. It was an incredibly painful process to endure, especially at such a young age. The surgery entailed fracturing a bone in each foot for reconstructive purposes and the insertion of hardware, that I would later have taken out in another set of surgeries.
I remember being in the recovery room, disoriented and my vision blurry. I was experiencing this tremendous sharp pain in both of my feet. It dawned on me that both of my feet were broken and that I wouldn't be able to walk for six months. This thought, paired along with the intense pain and remnants of anesthesia in my bloodstream, was too much for my eleven year old self to interpret clearly.The edge of my vision became smokey with every wave of pain, as if there was something burning behind my eyes, black smoke polluting them. At some point my body decided to extinguish the flame burning behind my eyes with a stream of tears. There was this incessant beeping noise sounding in the background, beeping at a rate that corresponded to the pain as it progressed. Looking back, I realize that this beeping noise was my heart rate, ascending as the pain became more intense. Whenever I’d go see my doctor, I was asked to describe the level of my pain on a scale of 1-10. This was 10/10 pain, something I’d never experienced in my eleven years of existence. The recovery room nurse tried her best to comfort me, my mother wasn't allowed in until I was completely stable. The recovery room was cold, dark, and has that stereotypical hospital smell of sterility. The sort of smell that slightly burns your nostrils with each inhale of air.
“We need to get your heart rate down, sweetie.” said the nurse.”Where is my mom, I want my mom” I said through gritted teeth. All I wanted was to see a familiar face. “They broke my legs.” I said, sobbing. I just kept repeating, “It hurts, It hurts” until I was able to stable my breathing enough to have a dose of pain medication. When it was safe to do so, she dosed me with percocet, and as it made its way through my bloodstream, numbing me from the inside out, I faded away. As it turns out, though, the pain I experienced directly following my surgery was abnormal. The local anesthetic they’d administered in attempt to inhibit my nerves from sending pain signals had failed. Little did I know that this double surgery would catalyze a trend of being cut open over and over again, for the next six years. Eleven surgeries, a diagnosis of Juvenile Idiopathic Arthritis, countless procedures, a plethora of medications, and an ongoing bout with depression, here I am.
My experiences with pain sparked an unyielding need to fix people who are experiencing similar situations as I have. It brought to light the passion I have to help people during the worst time of their lives. It made me who I am today. I have made the decision to go from patient to doctor. I figured if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em!
The last name Troche is of Galician origin with an uncertain meaning. According to ancestry.com (2017), it could be derived from the idiomatic expression ‘Troche y moche’, meaning ‘all over the place.’ There are little known facts relating to the last name Troche.
According to ancestry.com, the last name Negron is of French and Spanish origin and is a variant of the word ‘Negro’ meaning ‘black’. According to name.mooseroots.com, the US Census ranked the surname Negron 2,208th in 2000. The name is most prevalent in the northeastern part of the United States, especially in New York. According to the US Census Bureau, 90% of people with the surname Negron are of hispanic origin.
The name Jenesis is of Greek origin, according to names.org, and means ‘Creation or Beginning.’’ The is name commonly given to females, although it is a unisex name. Jenesis is a variant spelling of the name Genesis.The name Jenesis isn’t popular at all, with it being ranked 1,269th in popularity on babycenter.com(2017)
When researching my names, I was not surprised at all to find little to no information pertaining to them. Most of the information I already know about them has been given to me by word of mouth, through my family. When analyzing my maternal ancestral makeup, it becomes obvious that the last name Negron was given to identify our african ancestors, brought to Puerto Rico by the spaniards to work as slaves. Troche is spanish, and again, when analyzing my paternal ancestral makeup, you can see that most of my ancestors were caucasian and of spanish descent.
Names are vital in the development of one’s identity. They are important in a way that separates you from everyone else. Names can connect you to your ancestors in a stronger way that blood and DNA can. Names often get passed down to descendants who will then carry that name throughout their lives. It is inevitable that curiosity will set in, causing them to want to find out more about where they came from. It is not as common, or readily available to find out your roots through DNA samples, etc. Names too, can make you or break you. Certain names may be associated with a certain culture or race that may elicit prejudice from potential job employers, etc. Names are important. There is a science behind them, but ultimately it is up to the person with said name to build a reputation for it.